


Aegis

by Issay



Series: Amalgamations [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child fix it (kind of?), Intrigue, Multi, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Politics, Slytherin Pride, So Much Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: It's 1981 and the power balance is about to shift.To the members of the Order it looks like the war is lost. Lord Voldemort seems unstoppable, saved from a catastrophic mistake by the most unlikely of messengers. But in the world of shifting Slytherin alliances some are starting to doubt the Dark Lord, and an old friend - or maybe an old enemy? - threatens to turn the tide.Picks up immediately after "Aseity" and cannot be read as standalone.





	1. Prologue

The wind outside howled as Robert Mulciber shivered in Lord Voldemort's dark and uncomfortable sitting room in Tintagel fortress. It was a cold and overall unpleasant night of All Hallow’s Eve 1981, a night when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was as thin as it could be. A night good for dark deeds.

The sitting room was pretty much designed to cause anxiety in the Dark Lord's guests. Robert, one of the designers of the fortress, knew the reasoning behind this decision: fear and discomfort made minds easier to read, and Lord Voldemort liked the branch of mind magic called Leglimency. With a Dark Lord capable of accessing his followers’ most private thoughts, it wasn't hard to keep them loyal and honest. Mulciber mumbled another warming charm and thought about the comforts of his own drawing room; the roaring fireplace and house elves ready to serve hot tea and trays of perfectly buttery scones. Was it up to him, Mulciber would be sprawled in the superbly comfortable armchair there, reading an article in "The Potioneer" on the new uses of manticore blood in strengthening solutions. He only had a chance to briefly see the contents of the latest issue and was quite pleased to see that one of the essays was penned by Severus Snape, one of their own young and brilliant minds. But a nice, quiet evening in his own home wasn't an option when one carried the ominous Dark Mark on their forearm. So Mulciber, painfully aware of his obligations towards Lord Voldemort sat vigil, waiting in silence.

Somewhere out there his friend was dying. A friend he's known since he was an eleven year old boy and they sat together at the Slytherin table for the first time that night of their Sorting, a boy he shared mischief and adventures and secrets with. A young man who supported him in his research and who helped him face the disapproval of the scientific community once his less savory experiments have come to light. A Knight. A Death Eater. A good, loyal wizard whose only fault was loving too unwisely and being surrounded by disloyal cowards. Somewhere out there Aldric Lestrange was facing his end or maybe he was already dead and the only thing Mulciber could still do for his friend was to make sure that his body will be buried with dignity, and that his last will finds its way to the rightful hands. What else was there?

After all, Robert was one of the disloyal cowards.

He moved to stand up when the door suddenly opened but it wasn't the Dark Lord, no, the night was still too young for him to be back. The mute house elf, one of the many responsible for keeping Tintagel in order and tending to Dark Lord's guests, let Lucius Malfoy in and shut the door again behind him.

"Ah, master Mulciber…" The younger of the two sat down on the small sofa and nodded to Robert. "Wretched night, isn't it?"

"Yes, I've been listening to the wind for the last couple of minutes. Or maybe it's the sea's roar, I'm not sure anymore."

Malfoy rubbed his hands together and shifted, looking unsure. Robert has never seen the young wizard look this uncomfortable during a conversation – after all, all purebloods were taught from their youngest years to master social situations. But, he supposed, sitting in Lord Voldemort's waiting room wasn't particularly typical social activity.

"What are we waiting for, do you know?" Malfoy asked after a few moments of silence, avoiding Robert's gaze.

"Yes, I happen to know," he admitted with a sigh. Malfoy waited patiently for him to continue and for another few seconds only the roar of the wind outside filled the room. "Two things, really. The Dark Lord decided to relieve Aldric Lestrange of his duties, you see."

Robert watched the younger wizard as he flinched and mulled over this information. Yes, Voldemort went to kill one of his oldest followers, one of his closest friends. Yes, this meant no one was safe. Yes, this meant Robert knew and did nothing to warn Aldric because they were Slytherins and survival was more important than loyalty.

As Mulciber watched, Malfoy thought all of this through and eventually nodded.

"May he finally rest and Merlin guide him through the paths of afterlife, then." Malfoy looked the older Death Eater straight in the eye. They were Slytherins. Loyalty was their currency but sometimes its value was overshadowed by other things. "And the other reason?”

"Maybe we should not discuss it here but... I suppose after tonight it is not going to be a secret anymore. Do you know of the prophecy?"

"Not much. Just that were was one, and that it worried Dark Lord's mind for some time now," admitted Malfoy, visibly frustrated with his own lack of information. Mulciber smiled without much joy.

"I'm surprised, it was your little protegee who brought it to our attention. It says that a child able to defeat the Dark Lord was born in July to parents from Dumbledore's lot. Tonight, a spy brought us their location. The Dark Lord went to deal with the issue."

"Alone? Is this wise?"

Mulciber was silent for another long while, staring into the cold and empty fireplace. He knew it was only decorative. The magic that held Tintagel together didn't do much for the dampness that somehow still got through the thick layer of stone, and except for Fiendfyre no magical flame could warm these fireplaces.

"It is not wise to question the Dark Lord's reasons, Lucius. However, between the two of us, I do share your concerns. Though since neither of us was involved in planning of tonight's... activities, maybe we should refrain from judging them until we see them come to fruition.”

"I did not mean any disrespect, of course."

"Of course." Mulciber sighed. "You see, Lucius, this night may be our greatest triumph yet. With the last obstacle removed, there will be nothing standing in our way to establish Ministry sharing our values and believing in the old ways. Dumbledore's last, desperate hope will be taken away and eventually we'll round them all up thanks to our spies and informants. In a year or two, my young friend, the Dark Lord will rule England without even a whisper of opposition. Your son will be raised in a new, safe society. Won't you agree that it is worth the Dark Lord's time to see the events of this night through?"

Lucius' face didn't betray a thing. Both wizards knew very well that walls within the fortress had ears, and that some statements had bigger audience than only the intended one. They have both seen poor victims of too loose tongues writhe on the floor under Crucio more than once.

"Indeed, master Mulciber, I do agree with you and rejoice. Thank you for sharing your wisdom."

Robert's smile was just as false as his words were. Had they met in a different place, somewhere hidden behind a wall of privacy protecting charms and curses, he would have allowed himself to voice his bitterness and disillusionment that sometimes was hard to ignore. But survival was a game of intellect, and of knowing when to show which face.

"Any time, Lucius. But, as we wait let us turn thoughts to more pleasant matters. How is your son and lovely lady wife?"

"Draco is just fine, thank you for asking. I have bought him one of those little children's broomsticks, you see, he has taken to flying like mermaid to water."

"Ah, I imagine Narcissa was not too pleased."

"Indeed, she was not."

Mulciber was just about to comment on the issue of angry wives when the door to the drafty sitting room opened and Aldric Lestrange barged in, very much alive and looking rather peeved, his black robes billowing.

"Malfoy, Mulciber," he muttered without really paying them any attention, immediately making his way straight to the small wooden cabinet in the corner where glasses and slightly dusty decanters stood. "At least it's not the full gathering of the Inner Circle."

With a bewildered expression Robert got to his feet and in three big steps got to his friends side, only to hesitantly reach for the man's arm as if to make sure it was indeed Lestrange alive and well, and not some ghost. Halloween night made for strange visions, sometimes.

"I assure you I'm very much alive," said Aldric coldly. The 'not thanks to you' was left unsaid for now but Robert was strangely sure it would be addressed at a later date and in more private setting.

"I am glad to see it, old friend, you probably don't know how much" said Mulciber, hands now tight on Lestrange's arms. "But I have to ask: how?"

Only from this close he could see that Aldric's eyes were bright with a strange, wild fire, a feverish state he has not witnessed in his friend since the days of their youth. The wizard in question politely shrugged off Mulciber's hold and handed him a glass of Firewhiskey instead. Aldric took the other two glasses and moved to sit near Malfoy, also handing him a drink.

"Well, gentlemen", started Aldric when Robert followed him in haste and sat down close to hear the story, "I've been prepared to die tonight when the strangest individual came through my wards. A girl not much younger than master Malfoy here, a girl who is yet to be and spoke of things that may never come to pass."

"Stop talking in riddles, Lestrange!”

"Always so impatient, Robert.” Aldric smiled acidly. "Fine then, I'll speak plainly. A girl claiming to be from the future told me that the Dark Lord would fall tonight, defeated by Lily Potter's love for her son and the sacrifice she was willing to make. My unlikely savior gave me memories of his second return and subsequent fall by the prophesied child's hand, the Potter boy's, and of all the mistakes you idiots have made. And after she left, our Lord has visited me and I have relayed the message from his little time-traveler."

"And here you stand, " said Tom Riddle from the doorway, where he stood unnoticed for the last few moments. "In the full grace again."

"Yes."

"Welcome home then, Aldric." Lestrange merely bowed his head when two other Death Eaters stood up to greet the Dark Lord. "Sit, sit. We have matters to discuss."

Riddle closed the door and moved to sit in the only comfortable armchair in the room. With a swish of his wand the air has gotten warmer and the roar of the waves quieted finally.

"As we speak," Voldemort started, "Peter Pettigrew is going to Godric's Hollow where the Potter house is located. They made him the Secret Keeper, those little fools, so he'll be granted entrance without a question, just a friend dropping by to see how they are faring. Our little rat should be able to get James Potter - from behind, I have no doubt - and once he does, a small group of Death Eaters led by our magnificent Bellatrix will deal with the child."

"And the woman, my Lord?" asked Lucius, forehead creased. Riddle smiled with contentment.

"Bella knows that if she harms Lily Potter I will be most displeased. The mudblood is to be given as a reward to Severus Snape, for his tireless work and promise."

An incentive, thought Lucius, not allowing the worry to show on his face. A leash to make sure Severus doesn't try and do something stupid, like going to Dumbledore. Clever. Horrid, but oh so clever.

"They will be martyrs," muttered Mulciber, sounding deep in thought as he swirled his wand between the fingers of his free hand. "James and Harry Potter, murdered by the Dark Lord. Lily Potter, innocent victim of violence and rape from dirty Death Eater hands. A family ripped apart... This could hurt us long-term."

"Let them have their saints," answered Aldric softly before Voldemort could reply. "After the Potters are gone, the Order is done. Giving them names to pray to is the least we could do, really."

Robert looked at his friend for a long while, cataloging every change - the glint of madness in his eyes, the adrenaline rush after near-miss with Tom's Avada, the dark circles under his eyes and lines of worry and pain etched deep into his face. Mulciber didn't like what he saw but this wasn't the time nor the place.

"Well then," Riddle smiled coolly, looking at the men gathered in the room. "Time to get to work."


	2. Interlude 1

A. Lestrange to A. Dolohov  
Halloween 1981  
  
 _Anton, my truest,_

_  
I did not expect this day to come this soon, nor for us to be separated for this - but maybe it's simpler, cleaner this way. What a paradox it is that Azkaban is a safer place for you these days than the house we have shared for so many years. But that's how this is coming to pass and I do not think there is a way around it._

_  
There are so many things I want to tell you and yet I cannot find the words to do so. I want to tell you not to be angry with Tom; to remind you that we have both known for a long time that death would not come from Dumbledore or the Ministry but from the man we have spent decades serving and being loyal to. I will not tell you this, though. I cannot make you promise not to do anything stupid because I know you better than this. I will however tell you that my deepest wish is for you to survive. Make sure my name isn't forgotten, Morgana knows my useless cowards of sons cannot even be trusted with ensuring that engraving of my tombstone is correct. House Lestrange will fall with my death. I believe it might be better this way._

_  
The darkness is gathering so I turn my thoughts to the happier times when comfort wasn't a weakness and when intimacy wasn't suspicious. We have lost so much in our lifetime, Anton. In those last years we have even lost what we used to have before, and I regret all of what stands between us even now._

__  
Do you remember the beginning? I find it hard to even go back to those days, my memories of them are like pale shadows. They say the Dark Arts do that to you, take the memory of innocence and happiness away, warp and twist it until there's nothing left. Even the might of this magic cannot take away the simple notion that there was never a life without you for me as you've been by my side since we were eleven and the world was waiting.  
The shadows in your soul have been worrying me for long and exhausting decades now. I know you as well as I know myself so I recognize the dark urges you've been indulging, the craving that put you in the path leading to Azkaban. I wanted to believe that Tom would reward the years of our faithful service and save you from this fall. I misjudged, led to a mistake by the memory of who Tom Riddle used to be – not who Lord Voldemort is, and now I will pay for my mistake.

 __  
Do you even wonder what would have happened if we didn't answer his call after he came back? Would we be happier, cleaner, less burdened with the heavy weight of our deeds? I don't think we would ever join Dumbledore and his crowd, no, but maybe a small villa in Geneva would offer a refuge from the revolution and a life worthy of cowardly lovers.  
You've never been a coward, though.You would have hated the safe paths and I would hate myself for making you follow them.

_  
We never stood a chance, did we?_

_  
Forgive me the rambling of an old and scared man. I fear death. There, I said it. I fear the punishment for my deeds, for everything that has been done upon my advice, for the darkness slowly swallowing the world. We're responsible for it, you and I, and Robert, and the rest of them. We've enabled Tom and in return he will turn on all of us. Muggles have this saying: the revolution always eats its children. In this case, it will eat its fathers._

_  
But most of all I fear that my greatest sin was loving you as so much evil I've done was done in your name and in order to protect you. This is one thing I will never apologize for, even now that we're so distant as never before._

_  
I will go now and await my death in the cold, barren rooms of my ancestors. This letter will find you as soon as I leave this world with the last, dying breath of my magic._

_  
I shall leave you with this: love you, Antonin Dolohov. Please know that this is the only thing in life I do not regret. I hope I will be allowed to die with your image under my eyelids._

_  
Vale,_

_  
Aldric_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With wishes of fantastic 2019 - the first actual chapter :)

The wards glittered around him and for a moment the young wizard was convinced they would stop him, that he wouldn't be able to make another step into the direction of the house he was heading to. But then the thick, layered spells relented, and with a sigh of relief he could continue.  
When Sirius Black entered the Burrow, he has found deathly silence and several wands pointed directly at him. The wizard looked Remus Lupin straight in the eye and slowly, carefully showed his empty hands, refusing to tremble in fear.  
"My wand is in my thigh holster," he said clearly, voice unwavering. "I wish you no harm."  
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just Avada you here and now, you bastard," demanded Moody gruffly, point of his wand painfully digging into the skin on Sirius' throat. Black sighed softly.  
"I wasn't their Secret Keeper."  
Dumbledore, looking as if he has aged decades in one night, nodded to Arthur Weasley. With a movement of the man's wand Sirius found himself bound and seated on the chair, his own wand on the table in front of the Headmaster. The living room was crowded and seemingly bursting with people now crowding around him but young Black saw it for what it was: an illusion. The nearly full meeting of the Order of Phoenix was now just a gaggle of tired, scared wizards and witches who held their wands a bit too tightly even in the safe space of Molly and Arthur's home. He watched them as Moody produced a vial of Veritaserum, and he tried to meet Moony's eyes but Remus has purposefully avoided his gaze.  
Sirius allowed Mad-Eye to pour three drops of the potion on his outstretched tongue. The auror, satisfied, nodded to Dumbledore.  
"What is your name?"  
"Sirius Orion Black."  
"Were you the Secret Keeper for the Potter family?"  
"No."  
From behind him, Remus made a sound strangely similar to a sob. Arthur hurried to comfort him, awkwardly patting the man's shoulder.  
"Do you know who was?"  
"Yes."  
"Who?"  
"Peter Pettigrew."  
Sirius felt the magical bonds loosen and disappear, and Moody handed him the antidote. Sirius took it and gratefully reached for a glass filled with water, handed to him by slightly teary-eyed Molly Weasley.  
"We switched at the last moment," he explained, voice hoarse and slightly broken. "Prongs… James felt I'd be too obvious so we agreed I'll play decoy and Peter will be the Keeper. Safer that way, he said. In case there was a spy within the Order. We never… we never suspected…"  
Sirius felt Remus' hand land on his shoulder and squeeze tightly with wordless apology. The room was absolutely silent for a long moment when the two Marauders gathered themselves.  
"I have not foreseen young Peter switch sides," admitted Dumbledore sounding defeated and tired. "It's as much of my fault."  
"Balderdash," interjected Minerva, with anger on her pale face and hands rolling into tight fists. "It's his fault and his alone, Albus. And I swear, if he ever gets in front of my wand…"  
"Yours and mine, Minnie," muttered Moody, sitting down next to Transfiguration teacher. "We'll teach that little bastard."  
"He can turn into an animal," said Sirius, staring into the roaring fireplace without really following the conversation around him. "We're... we've all been unregistered Animagi, James, Peter and I."  
Albus shook his head slowly, focused on Black again.  
"Well, that explains some of the mischief you lot have been up to at school."  
"What is he, boy?"  
Sirius looked up to meet Moody's eyes.  
"I turn into a dog. James turned into a stag. Peter… Peter's a rat."  
"The sheer irony…" muttered Remus too quietly for the rest of the gathered witches and wizards to hear. He sat down next to Sirius heavily, hand never breaking contact with his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Sirius. I've been too hasty to condemn you."  
"You didn't know," sighed young Black. "I don't blame you, old friend."  
The door opened and the last missing member of the Order, Augusta Longbottom, has entered with a whisper of her elegant robes and click-clack of sensible heels. She looked at the gathered Order members and pursed her lips slightly, gray eyes moving from one person to another.  
"I would say good day but I suppose this day is as far from good as it gets," the older witch sighed, taking the last available armchair. "Oh, tea, splendid, thank you, Molly."  
"I did not expect to see you, Augusta," Minerva nodded to the woman. "Are you sure it is safe for you to come?"  
"Is anything safe these days?"  
Albus cleared his throat and the room was silent once again save for roar of the fire.  
"Last night," he started, "James and Harry Potter have been murdered in their home in Godric's Hollow, betrayed by one of our own. The fate of Lily Potter is currently unknown."  
"Sir, I think…." Remus sighed heavily and leaned on Sirius a bit more to ground himself. "I think Lily might still be alive."  
"Why is that?" demanded Moody from his place at McGonagall’s side.  
"We know that Severus is a Death Eater," the werewolf shrugged. "I believe that he has a vested interest in keeping her safe."  
"Yeah," agreed Sirius, finally shaking away his reverie and looking around. "Snivellus was drooling over her since our fourth year at school, he got really fixated on her, you know?"  
"Maybe he has enough pull to protect her. And if he doesn't, wasn't he Lucius Malfoy's protegee?" asked Minerva, fingers tight on her mug. Sirius shuddered thinking about Lily, their bright and funny Lily, in Snivellus' slimy hands. Still, it was better than dead - Sirius has avoided thinking about James and Harry, dead and cold… Remus' hand, warm and steady, tightened on his shoulder.  
"We need to organize a funeral," he said out loud, cutting into the discussion on the internal politics of Death Eaters. Silence fell over the cluttered room. "For James and Harry. We need to organize a funeral."  
"We'll take care of it," offered Molly quietly. Sirius nodded, too overwhelmed to talk.  
"I hate to ask this but what now, Albus?" asked Augusta, looking at the Headmaster. "How many more will have to die before we accept defeat?"  
Dumbledore shook his head and started to answer, unheard by Minerva whose attention was turned to elsewhere.  
"The old coot is right," said Moody quietly. "It's pretty much over for us."  
The teacher looked at her friend tiredly. He looked like he hasn't slept in at least a month – who knows, maybe longer.  
"Later, Alastor. And not here."  
“Fine,” he muttered under his breath. “We can open that bottle you've been hiding in your desk.”  
"…they will now turn to Ministry. It's an opportunity for us to strengthen our defenses and look for allies on the continent. The wizarding world will be sympathetic to our plight, Augusta, you know this."  
The Longbottom matriarch stood up, her heavy purple traveling cloak falling around her with a whisper.  
"My family is being hunted, Albus. I did not take the risk of coming all the way here to listen to uncertainties and hope that others will care. No one will care, and we are alone. Naivety does not suit you," she bowed slightly to the rest of the room and left without another word of goodbye. The auror and the professor exchanged uneasy glances, as the rest of the group started talking all at once.  
  
Much, much later that night, once they were in Minerva's rooms at Hogwarts hidden behind the thick veil of protective wards, charms and curses, did they allow themselves the luxury of complete honesty.  
"We've lost this war," she muttered, handing him a mug filled with coffee and Firewhiskey in 1:1 proportions. Alastor took it and held in his hands, trying to warm them. "They don't see it yet, do they?"  
"Can you really blame them? Accepting defeat is never easy, Minnie. There's still hope that Longbottom boy is the child from the prophecy. As long as he's alive Albus will not accept that it's over. And the rest of them trust him blindly."  
She sighed and tightened the quilt she had wrapped around her shoulders. Outside, sky was getting shade by shade brighter above the dark mass of Gryffindor tower visible through Minerva's window.  
"We should be changing safe houses compromised by Pettigrew's betrayal, code words, the emergency cashes… 'Strengthen our defenses and look for allies'? We should have done that before the Coastal Offensive, Alastor, and not bloody now."  
Scars and burn marks gleamed slightly in the light from the fireplace as the auror nodded.  
"And I agree, it's too late for that now," he put a comforting hand on the witch's shoulder. "Hogwarts is still safe. Albus doesn't feel the urgency yet."  
"Yet," she noted dryly. "I'm afraid he'll feel it only when the Death Eaters are swarming our gates and He Who Must Not Be Named is demanding keys to the school."  
"Possibly."  
"You need to go into hiding."  
"I know. My house has already been compromised," he admitted. "The ever lovely Bella Lestrange paid me a visit early this morning. I was lucky, they've botched the anti-apparition spell."  
"Alastor!" She looked at him, alarmed, as if wanting to make sure he's all right. Of course he is.  
"Woman, stop with the panic. I'm fine."  
"You're staying here tonight." When he opened his mouth to protest, the look she sent him was more effective than any Silencio. "Don't even think about it, Alastor. Like you said: Hogwarts is still safe."  
Like the smart man that he was Moody knew better than to argue with an angry witch with a penchant for Transfiguration.  
"We need to establish escape routes," he said instead and looked outside, at the pre-dawn play of light and shadow. "Ways out of the country for when they take over the Ministry and look towards the school. Because we know it's coming, even if Albus doesn't want to."  
"It's the smart thing to do," Minerva nodded, looking somewhat pacified. "Why establish a new system of terror if one is already in place and only requires small changes in leadership and only some new methods..."  
"They've already started taking some departments over," he grumbled. "DMLE is still holding on but after last night I'm not going to show my ugly mug there, I don't fancy going straight into their trap. And there's an election coming in a couple of weeks, Minnie."  
"I know. But we've lost that one years ago, haven't we?"  
"Yeah. Should have pushed Albus to become Minister last time, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess today."  
She nodded and tiredly rested her head on his shoulders. He startled but did nothing to dislodge the exhausted witch. Awkwardly, he rested his hand on her back, trying to comfort her at least a little.  
"I still can't believe…" she murmured. "James and their little boy, dead just like that. A senseless tragedy because some Seer had a prophecy about some boy born in July and some Dark Lord. And Lily, dear Godric, poor Lily. Do you think she's still alive, Alastor?"  
The auror carefully wrapped one arm around her shoulders, holding the witch securely. She sighed quietly when Moody's chin found the perfect spot to rest on the top of her head. Minerva chose to ignore the fact that in the hand not wrapped around her, the auror held his wand, ready to defend at any time.  
"I do, yes. But the thing is… I'm not sure if it's a good thing she's alive, Minnie."  
"No one even started with the idea of getting her back," she continued like she hasn't heard him. "They've given up on her. Even Black, the most reckless of them. They know we don't have the means to get her away from those people."  
"I know."  
"We should have packed them and send them out of the country, like the Longbottoms."  
"I know."  
"We got them killed."  
"I know."  
With a sigh, Minerva closed her eyes. The auror stared into the fire, one arm around the witch, the other clutching his wand a little too tightly.  
  
Somewhere else in the castle an old wizard looked through the memories in his Pensieve, looking for answers and finding only more questions.  
In another part of the island, a pregnant red-headed witch has just finished washing dishes, and her husband came back from walking the perimeter of the protective wards around their house. Then the two of them sat at their kitchen table and simply held hands, whispering prayers to the old gods to bless the ones who have survived and to show the merciful paths to the ones who did not.  
In another country two aurors held their small child between them in bed, hoping they'll always be able to shield their boy from the evil of this world. Outside of their bedroom, an elderly witch sat vigil, her wand held tightly in her wiry hand, tired eyes tirelessly scanning the darkness outside.  
Somewhere in London a traitor was looking at the same storm and shuddered, wandering for the hundredth time if he did the right thing. It was, of course, completely pointless to wonder as what was done, was done and there was no turning back. Still, he looked and wondered.  
  
And in the cold and drafty sitting room in Tintagel, a red-headed woman was looking at a wizard clad in black from her kneeling position on the stone floor. She was a miserable sight: face bloodied, her clothing torn, her hands bound behind her, as were her feet. Yet there was an astonishing look of pure, unadulterated hate shining in her green eyes.  
"You, Lily Potter," said Tom Riddle, slowly turning the woman's wand in his fingers, "are a surprise."  
The witch contemplated the Dark Lord in stubborn silence. He did not look like the monster she imagined - there was some inhuman quality to his features and red eyes but if one did not look closely, he very much resembled a normal wizard. Lily knew there wasn't anything normal about him.  
"You," she said when the silence stretched, "are not."  
"Truly? Is there nothing you find surprising about this situation, mudblood?"  
Something absolutely vicious gleamed in her eyes.  
"Last time I checked there was no pure blooded House of Riddle so you may want to stop the name-calling."  
Voldemort's lips curved in a small smile when he cast a wordless Crucio with her own wand and considered the witch writhing on the floor for a long moment. She was, like he said, a surprise. Most of them soiled themselves with fear when they faced the Dark Lord himself. The sheer visual of Tintagel's dungeons in their dark glory was enough to drive most out of their minds with fear of what was to come. But not her.  
Eventually he lifted the curse and patiently waited for the witch to stop whimpering.  
"You may want to stop being disrespectful, little mudblood," he said mockingly. "Get up, on your knees."  
Once she obeyed, muscles still trembling with the strain of the spell, he nodded approvingly.  
"Smart choice."  
In reply Lily spit the blood from the lip she has bitten through. With a lazy move of his hand, the stain on his robes disappeared without a trace.  
"Why didn't your minions just kill me?" she asked once she regain the ability to breathe normally again. "For sure I'm not worth the effort of keeping me alive."  
"You're not," he admitted coldly. "But there is someone of value that I need to keep on the leash and you're the perfect instrument to do so. I'll give you to him as a reward, I'll applaud his talents, and I'll threaten your life should his loyalty falter. If he even so much as thinks of betraying me, I'll skin you alive and break your every bone, and then I'll heal you and give you for my Death Eaters to use like the filthy rag you are. And he will watch as you pay the price for his disloyalty. Do you understand now, little mudblood?"  
Sure I do, she thought to herself when he left without waiting for her reply. She shivered, and the cold did not have anything to do with it.  
"It does not do to make him angry," said a new, almost kind voice. Lily looked up to see an older wizard standing in the doorway. A Death Eater, told her the markings on his robes, Inner Circle.  
Robert Mulciber, added her memory of the Order briefings.  
"I don't really care," she said, looking at him warily. With a sigh, the wizard reached for his wand and to her astonishment, her clothes were suddenly mended and wounds healed. She watched the blood disappear from the floor, and felt her broken nose right itself.  
The air in the room, albeit still unpleasant, has gotten slightly warmer.  
"If he wants to give you as a gift, you should at least be presentable," he explained tiredly. "You don't seem afraid of him, child."  
"How can I?" she smiled - but it wasn't a smile, Mulciber thought, it was more of a broken grimace that made the witch look older than she really was. "There is nothing more for me to fear, you see. The worst has already happened."  
"Ah," he nodded, but did not comment. Instead, the Death Eater looked at her with something resembling pity - or maybe it was something closer to regret. Either way, Lily did not care.  
  
Several levels above them the excited crowd of Death Eaters hushed as the Dark Lord entered the cavernous space and stood tall on the dais for all to see. He outstretched his hands widely while his eyes, gleaming red, scanned the sea of faces before him.  
"My friends! My loyal friends! Many of you heard rumors of the final victory," a murmur passed through the black-clad crowd but quickly the room went quiet again. "Today marks the day the wretched Order has finally fallen! Today marks the day we march on to total victory!"  
The sound of cheer was overwhelming, multiplied by the natural echo of the stone fortress. Death Eaters yelled and shoot brightly colored spells in the air. But some did not join the celebrations. Those who stood on the outskirts, just next to Voldemort's dais, nodded and exchanged self-satisfied smiles leaving more energetic way of showing joy to the younger and less distinguished members of the brotherhood.  
When several long moments later the Dark Lord left the huge room of gatherings, members of his Inner Circle wordlessly filed out after him. Friends joined friends, groups formed and reformed as per usual, noted Severus walking a step behind Malfoy and Barty Crouch Junior. They might have been victorious but it didn't change the fact that they were still divided.  
The Inner Circle took their places around the elongated table in what Severus dubbed in his head their conference room, with Voldemort sitting on a chair resembling a throne at the head of the table. The last two wizards to enter were Robert Mulciber and Aldric Lestrange - Snape noticed that at the sight of their pater familias all three Lestranges present started a panicked, whispered exchange. Severus caught Lucius Malfoy's amused glance. 'Later,' it said. Yes, Lucius looked like a kneazle who caught the house elf which usually meant that he knew something the rest of the table didn't. Mulciber stayed standing next to the door but Aldric sat down next to…  
"Is that Peter Pettigrew?" whispered Baruch Avery, Severus' year mate.  
"Yeah," answered the potions master quietly, his brows drawn together. He has heard rumors that their cause had a spy within the Order but one of the Gryffindor Four? Was this some kind of a trick?  
"As I can see," picked up the Dark Lord, seemingly unaware of the internal unrest going on around him, "we have several questions to answer. Allow me to explain the situation to those of you who spend their time on things more productive than gossip. Last night we finally had a breakthrough. Thanks to my spy, Peter, one of the Order's hopes was extinguished."  
Suddenly Severus had a really bad feeling about this.  
"Search for the Potter family has been concluded," announced Voldemort and Snape froze in place, hands hidden under the table curling themselves into fists. He took a long, calming breath, then another one, and only then noticed that Lucius was watching him with a peculiar expression on his face. Almost unnoticeably Malfoy shook his head. "We will now move our attention to the Ministry. Lucius, Barty, organize the younger Death Eaters and sympathizers within the Ministry, start pushing for the legislative changes you've been preparing for the last couple of months. Bella, my dear Bella…"  
Bellatrix Lestrange almost slid out of her seat with excitement. Aldric exchanged cryptic looks with his younger son who sat to her left.  
"Bella, I want you to take a commando and intensify attacks. Let panic fill the minds of the wizarding world, Crabbe, you'll make sure it reaches the press and wireless. No major targets, though, those are still to be consulted directly with me." Both Death Eaters nodded, Olivant Crabbe with significantly less enthusiasm than the only witch in the room. "Moving on, Aldric has shown once again that his loyalty knows no bounds and acquired some key information. Expect changes as we'll adapt our plans accordingly. Aldric, my dear friend… It won't do to just thank you. To show you my gratitude, I will grant you one wish, whatever you'd like."  
Lestrange bowed his head in what to Severus looked like a mockery of servitude.  
"My Lord, serving you is the best reward in on itself. However, if I may be so bold, I'd like to request for your other loyal servant, Antonin Dolohov, to be released from Azkaban prison."  
There were many things Lestrange didn't say, Severus knew. Like how Dolohov was the Dark Lord's schoolmate, how he was among the first followers of Lord Voldemort, and how the deed that landed him in Azkaban was done in Voldemort's name and by his order. Not to mention that Dolohov indeed was one of the loyal ones - some lower level Death Eaters in his situation took deals offered by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and it made their lives in prison much easier. Malfoy did say that Anton was offered such a deal but refused to talk to the aurors, no matter what they promised him.  
But Aldric Lestrange couldn't say any of this without displeasing the Dark Lord so he wisely kept his mouth shut. Severus had to grudgingly respect the man for that. He himself knew how hard it was to keep silence when someone loved…  
He abandoned this train of thought. This was not a good place to show any kind of weakness. Snape turned his attention back to Lord Voldemort who was now studying his old friend with something like satisfaction visible on his not fully human face.  
"It delights me, Aldric, how well we know each other. Your request is granted, in fact, I might have given the order some time ago. Robert?"  
Mulciber nodded once and opened the door, letting haggard-looking Dolohov in. The wizard was filthy and still in the tattered robes given to any Azkaban prisoners, but this did not stop him from walking briskly to Voldemort's side and falling on his knees. He muttered something too quietly for the wizards sitting further away to understand, his thanks, perhaps. But Severus wasn't interested in that, no, more interesting sight was Aldric's face. The wizard had splendid control over his features but even with it, the change in him was visible the moment Anton walked in. He stood a little taller - because yes, he was now standing, Severus missed that - and there was something akin to joy in his eyes. How foolish, Snape thought. Lestrange didn't play the situation right from the moment Dolohov was imprisoned, showing how important the man was to Aldric was a fatal mistake that could prove disastrous in the future. The calculating look on Bella's beautiful face was rather telling and did not bode well. Malfoy caught Severus' gaze and followed it, then nodded almost imperceptibly. Yes, another thing filed for a later discussion.  
"Well, Aldric, Antonin, I will not stop you," Lord Voldemort made a small gesture towards the door. "Go, expect summons tomorrow. There are things I wish to discuss."  
The Dark Lord did not have to repeat himself, within seconds both wizards bowed shortly and disappeared in the long, dark corridors leading out of Tintagel.  
"Now, to continue…"

  
*

  
"I thought I'll die there…" muttered Antonin, closing his eyes as Aldric moved his lathered fingers through his long, wet hair.  
"Funny, I thought the same just yesterday about myself," admitted Lestrange after a long while filled only by the sounds of water sloshing about in the gigantic pool in Aldric's bathroom. "It's a literal miracle we're still alive."  
"How so?" Anton opened one eye to look at the other wizard. He noticed the small, almost invisible changes most probably didn't even see. The deep line of worry, the paleness of his skin, the exhaustion in every move.  
"He was coming to kill me." Aldric's voice was very dry. "Apparently my efforts to get you out were seen as a sign of disloyalty."  
"Fuck, Aldric…"  
"It's all right. Honestly, if they promised me you, immunity and an untraceable portkey to some faraway place, I would have sung like a cockatrice facing a basilisk. Information that bought my life and your freedom came from a bloody time traveler who came to warn us about all the mistakes we would make."  
"A time traveler."  
"I know, Anton. Trust me, I know."  
"Shit."  
"Yeah."  
They were silent for a long moment.  
"I think I'm done with water now," said Anton, dunking his head to wash away the soap and reaching for a towel. "Come, Aldr, I want a glass of Firewhiskey, a roaring fireplace and a soft bed."  
Aldric was amazed by how quickly his fortune has changed. The previous night he was waiting for death to come, wards down, the house quiet and empty. Now… Well, "now" seemed like a dream, cruel vision of granted wishes and sated needs dreamt by someone whose mind was broken by despair. That's how he felt, broken and confused, but knew that Anton's skin underneath his fingers was real - and for now, somehow, it was enough.  
"I can hear you thinking dark things" muttered Antonin into his ear, breath hot on Aldric's skin. "I love your brain, I really do, but I need you to stop thinking for now."  
Aldric felt his lips curve in a smirk when Dolohov nipped and sucked the delicate earlobe.  
"You can always try and make me," he replied, splaying his fingers over Anton's still damp back. The other wizard shivered but they both knew it wasn't due to cold air.  
"I've missed you so much, my dear friend, let me show you how much…"  
Aldric closed his eyes and finally allowed his brain to stop thinking.  
  
Across the night, in a small and not very cozy home at Spinner's End, another man's dream came true - but was welcomed with much less joy. A red-headed witch sat, curled into a tight ball, in the corner of a bed, looking down at her knees. A wizard, still in black robes with a Death Eaters mask hanging from his belt, was kneeling next to said bed. Outside, cold November rain started to hit the window glass.  
"I've never wanted this to happen like this," said Severus, hints of begging audible in his voice. "Lily, please. I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I didn't…"  
He stopped, shook his head.  
"Had I known he was going to hurt your little boy I would have gone to Dumbledore, I swear. Lily, I swear. I had no idea Peter was the spy, come on, it didn't make any sense. We all thought Black was the Keeper, we were under orders to hunt him down and bring him to the Dark Lord alive. Peter? That coward, that rat? Merlin, it didn't make any sense. I didn't know, Lily, you have to believe me."  
She didn't move nor did she give any sign that she's heard his rambling. Eventually he gave up and simply stared at her for a long while, taking in her miserable appearance. Lily did not look up. She did not say a word.  
With a sigh, Severus got up from his knees, cursed softly under his breath when his muscles protested, and took his wand out. She flinched. If he noticed, he didn't comment - but he transfigured a handkerchief taken out of his pocket into a soft, comfortable house robe for her and left it on the stack of blankets and pillows already piled on the bed. Another movement and a mug of steaming tea under a stasis spell and a plate filled with sandwiches appeared on a bedside table.  
"Everything is charmed to be unbreakable so that you can't hurt yourself with it," he said, sadness evident in his voice. "Wards will alarm me if you'll try to get out, I'm so sorry, Lily but he was very clear that you have to stay here, alive and well. Bathroom's down the hall, kitchen's downstairs… Well, I guess you knew that." He sighed. "Good night, Lily."  
Severus slid out of the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a small sound. She did not look up. She did not move.  
He did not notice that obscured by her robes, clutched in her hand, was one of the twin two-way mirrors she's been holding onto since she was dragged out of her little cottage in the Hollow.  
With another sigh, Severus went downstairs to the sitting room, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and haphazardly threw it into the fire.  
"Lucius Malfoy," he said, sitting down in front of the fire. After a moment his friend's face appeared in the flames.  
"I guess you're grounded at home for some time," muttered the aristocrat, taking in the sight his young protegee made. Sev's hair was in disarray, he was flexing his fingers in frustration, and his wand was tucked in his belt. "I assume it didn't go well?"  
"What did you expect?"  
"Gratitude would be nice," said Malfoy with a small, twisted smile. "You're the only reason she's still alive, you know."  
"I don't think Lily's grateful for being alive right now." Severus rubbed his face tiredly. "She won't even look at me. I feel like her fucking jailer."  
"You are her fucking jailer."  
"You're a real comfort, Malfoy."  
"We're Slytherins, Snape. Want comfort? Firecall a Hufflepuff. I'll give you honesty and a bit of advice: lower your expectations. She's alive and safe, and not the main attraction of tonight's celebrations. Take what you've been given and stop pouting."  
Malfoy's head abruptly disappeared from the fire before Severus could form a reply. The man closed his eyes and rubbed his nose, deep in thought. This was not the perfect situation, far from but, it it was still preferable to the other, more grim outcome: Lily dead along with her husband and child. Snape hoped that their exchanged letters would warm her up a little bit to him but she would need time - and he would need patience.  
Severus shook his head, got up and with an absent-minded wand movement vanquished the fire and all lights downstairs. Slowly, a bit hesitant, he made his way upstairs to sit on the corridor's floor, his back to the wall next to Lily's door, and spent the night listening to the woman inside weep.

  
*

  
Through the darkened, empty corridors of the Ministry of Magic moved a shadow. He wasn't particularly well-hidden - he knew there was no need, that in this darkest hour of this particular November night even the maintenance staff and ghosts wouldn't be there. His steps, though inaudible due to a silencing spell, were sure and steady. He was a wizard on a mission, this shadow, and knew that no one would be there to stop him. What is more the man on whose orders he was there also had this knowledge so failure was not an option. Though, then again, it never was when it came to Lord Voldemort's will.  
He stopped once he reached the corridor leading to the Minister's office. A quick glance confirmed the intelligence he received before: only one auror guarding the entrance.  
"Imperio," he whispered and watched the tall woman's eyes go unfocused. He ordered her to go and get some coffee from a break room he passed a floor down, yes, this would give him enough time. The shadow waited for a few seconds when she left her post and then moved, went past the empty assistant's desk and quietly slipped into the office of the most important person in the wizarding England.  
Milicent Bagnold looked up from the papers she was reviewing and considered her unannounced visitor for a few seconds, exhaustion visible on her face.  
"Robert Mulciber," she said after a moment. "I wondered who He would send but did not expect you."  
Mulciber bowed shallowly, his wand still pointed at the old witch.  
"Why?" he inquired, slightly amused.  
"You're not here to manipulate me, are you? He sent you to kill me. Oh, don't look at me like that, you may have followers within this Ministry but we are not blind, we know who and why and where. We know that your talents lie with making others do what He wants. This? This errand is beneath you."  
Smile disappeared from the Death Eater's face, she noted with satisfaction. Millicent thought about reaching for her wand, making him work for it…but was it worth it? Wouldn't it be better to die with dignity, murdered, not bested by Voldemort's minion?  
"Maybe he sent me as a sign of respect to you," the wizard said. "Maybe he trusts me to do this important job."  
"Yes, maybe. Tell me, is Ellinor alive? The auror outside. Or did you kill her?"  
"She's alive. But she won't save you."  
"I know," a small smile tugged on her lips, oh, how angry he looked. She did hit a sore spot with Mulciber. "Well, boy? Go on then."  
"Avada Kedavra," he hissed and watched with satisfaction how life drained out of her eyes. Robert moved a few steps forward and took the Minister's wand from her desk, broke it and put both pieces in the dead woman's hand. With a pleased nod he disillusioned himself and left the office, steps sure and steady.  
In three hours guard taking over from Ellinor will enter the Minister's office and find her dead body.  
In three hours and twenty minutes Amelia Bones will be rudely woken up by an urgent firecall from the Ministry.  
In three hours and thirty three minutes Albus Dumbledore will receive Amelia's patronus with the tragic news. More or less at the same time 'Daily Prophet's' new hire will jump out of her bed and catch her first story thanks to an auror she flirted with for the last couple of weeks, and in the morning every witch and wizard in the entire magical Britain will read an article with Rita Skeeter's name in the by line.

  
*

  
London, 4 November 1981  
_My dear Genevieve,  
I hope you are well and are enjoying the well deserved retreat in France. Forgive me silence of the last couple of days, I've been more than busy.  
The expected events that caused you to leave England in a hast did not come to pass - which is as much of a surprise to me as it must be to you. In the most astonishing turn of events I've acquired some particularly valuable information which helped to turn the tide again in our favor, even more so than before. Additionally the old, beloved friend I've missed so much has been returned to us though he is a bit worse for wear. I've installed him in one of the guest rooms - hope you don't mind - and the house elves have been overjoyed when I ordered them to try and fatten him up as he lost more than it's healthy for a wizard this age. I've been also trying to get him to see a healer but he adamantly refuses (I'll replace the broken crystal vase as soon as my broker finds one equally beautiful).  
I'm afraid that once again I will have to ask you to play the part of my dutiful wife and return home immediately. Surely the foreign newspapers reported the sudden and entirely unexpected death of our Minister, may Merlin greet her soul. As a result there is no strong candidate for the job - we all know the interim Minister, Abaldo Greengrass, is just a temporary solution - so it was strongly suggested I should humbly offer the wizarding community my services. With the elections so close and the campaign this hastened I'm going to need your support and you by my side at all times.  
I would also require your advice concerning our children. The boys have shown their colors in the times of crisis and I'm half of mind to simply disinherit the ungrateful cowards and allow some cousin in the third line to take the title and properties - gods know ancestors will forgive me, especially when faced with the horrifying vision of Bella's spawns (as unlikely as it is, I have it on good authority our daughter in law has eyes only for one man and it's not her husband).  
Hoping to see you soon,  
Aldric_   
  
Genevieve Lestrange allowed herself a small, ladylike sigh and read the letter from her husband again. Aldric never liked to plainly write what happened - though maybe he was afraid the letter would be interjected by someone unsympathetic to him and felt the need to be even more cryptic than usual. The news of his continued survival was welcome, however the one about Minister bid was not. Genevieve, like any other well-bred pureblood witch, was of course fully capable of appearing lovely, loving and playing the public's sweetheart - but she hoped that at her age she could start enjoying more private life.  
The most worrying part though was the one about her sons. Genevieve didn't have any doubts, yes, they were cowards and they were ungrateful but striking them down from the family tree was a bit much. Rodolphus and Rabastan were her little boys, not matter how many mistakes they've made.  
The witch nodded to herself, summoned a house elf to start packing her travel trunks, and reached for a clean roll of parchment to write a missive to her younger son.

  
*

  
Aldric closed his eyes with a small moan and sunk deeper into the comfort of his armchair. For a long while he simply enjoyed the warmth coming from the fireplace, soft pillows under his aging back, and the blessed quiet. He was tired, no, he was exhausted after hours spent in Tintagel, the uncomfortably hard armchair, in the damp cold, listening to other members of Voldemort's political council droning on and on about the strategy ("traditional values, subtle but visible enough for the purebloods to notice"), the visuals ("get your fucking wife over here, Lestrange, can't have you look like an old poof"), the media ("it's the new age, I tell you, Prophet is not everything!"). It went on for hours without so much as a tea break and Aldric was painfully aware of how much older he was when compared to the rest of them. Fucking feral merpeople smelling blood in the water.  
He almost purred when strong hands landed on his shoulders and started working out the kinks and knots. Absentmindedly Aldric noticed that the fingers currently digging into his skin were sure again so the trembling must have finally subsided. Good, very good indeed.  
"I'm fairly sure he's ordered you to do this to punish you," said Anton, not stopping his efforts. Aldric made a small sound of agreement.  
"He is, damn it. I promised to see it through, to make him the master of wizarding Britain…oh, yes, exactly there… but I didn't expect he would like me to run for Minister. Mulciber, sure. Malfoy, even though he is a tad too young for that, yes. But me? I'm a tougher sell than they are, less visible."  
"You'll be seen as a moderate option, you know."  
"Yes, that's what Malfoy's been telling me. Conservative, pureblood values, repeal of the pro-Muggle legislation, tax cuts for shops selling only wizard-made goods…promise of peace and prosperity. You know, the usual bullshit."  
"Helps that we created the economic catastrophe and that our people are responsible for the attacks."  
"Yeah, doesn't it?" Aldric opened his eyes and looked at Anton, searching his face - or maybe simply enjoying the sight. "You look good for a dead man."  
"I'm still peeved I won't be allowed to go to my own fucking funeral, Aldr."  
"Better safe than sorry," Lestrange shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I promise to make it up to you."  
"Oh, I'm sure you will. And I want memories in the pensieve as soon as you're back!"  
"Tyrant," Aldric muttered fondly. "I received a condolence note from Albus bloody Dumbledore today. He's deeply sorry for about your passing and wishes I'd reconsider his offer."  
"Have you shown this to Tom?"  
"Yeah, first thing. Didn't want the repeat performance of the last time lovely Bella cast suspicions on me."  
"Bitch."  
"Well said," sighed Aldric. "Do you think we can do anything about her without disrupting the timeline?"  
Anton made a face and practically threw himself onto a sofa next to Lestrange.  
"I'm not Mulciber so research is not my forte but I've reviewed the contents of your library to check the continuity theories. It's not very clear, I'm afraid."  
"Sum it up for me?" asked Aldric, filling two glasses with Firewhiskey and then handing one to Dolohov. The other wizard drained it in one go.  
"There are two major theories on time travel: parallel timelines and singular timeline. The singular is easy - there is only one timeline, some events are fixed points and the timeline will not allow any changes in them, only details can be changed but if you, for example, come from the future and save a wizard from being eaten by acromantula, he'll still die, just later and in some other way."  
"So that's not it."  
"Well, Tom is alive and doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon so we're on to parallel timelines. Basically this girl you told me about, Delphini, created a paradox as she relayed you knowledge from the future. Now the turn of events will change and Delphini from our future will not have this knowledge, the need to time travel or even be born."  
"So what you're telling me is that there's no turning back, Tom will win, we can safely kill Bellatrix and it won't in any way change it outcome?"  
"Yeah, at least in theory."  
Aldric was silent for a moment, sipping his whiskey.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well, like I said, it's all theory, slippery and unproven. If anyone has tried to prove any of them, my best guess is that Unspeakables are still sitting on it like a fucking dragon during nesting season and that research won't be public until Merlin's second coming at the earliest. Maybe neither of these theories is true. Maybe both are, maybe time will still try to right itself somehow but it won't happen right away and Tom won't be killed by a, I don't know, by a random heavy object falling out of the sky."  
"Cheery."  
"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I much prefer the version of this story in which you are not dead and I'm not spending fifteen years in fucking Azkaban but right now we're stumbling in the dark."  
"Look at the bright side," At Anton's incredulous stare, Aldric smiled happily feeling a little bit drunk and most definitely confused. "I'm pretty sure we can kill that bitch."  
Dolohov threw his head back and laughed, the sound making Lestrange think of wild animals. There was something dark in this laugh, a promise of death and pain, and Aldric suddenly felt himself sobering rather quickly. He knew the weeks spent in that place would change Anton - less so than years he was facing - and he dreaded these changes.  
"Potion or spell?"  
"Poison seems like a woman's way of dealing with things," admitted Aldric. He had to face the fact that killing his daughter in law wasn't the most unpleasant of chores, Azkaban or no Azkaban, and thinking about it made even him a little bit giddy. "Maybe a long-lasting spell? Something hard to notice unless one is explicitly looking for it?"  
"I could create something," Anton smiled happily, the familiar glint chasing away the darkness in his eyes. "Something that could kill bit by bit, rendering her useless so Tom wouldn't miss her too much… Though most spells like that would require repeated casting on the victim."  
Aldric shrugged.  
"Like it's hard? Genevieve usually hounds us for family dinners once every week or so, we could use the occasion."  
Dolohov chuckled quietly and reached for a spare piece of parchment to work the equations needed for such an enchantment. Aldric closed his eyes again with a soft sound of contentment. So far, life wasn't bad.

  
*

  
"Lily, please, you need to eat something."  
Silence.  
"Lily. Evans, for fuck's sake, I'm going to charm the food straight into your stomach and we both know it's not going to be pleasant."  
Silence. He sighed, half annoyed, half worried. Severus bit his lip and looked at the witch - who for the past few days did nothing but sit in that blasted corner with only rare trips to the bathroom and scarce sleep. Snape was at the end of his wits: he himself barely slept, too busy working on the potions for his private potioneer practice and worrying about her. Lily Evans, always on his mind, what else is new?  
He decided to try a little different approach. Risky, yes, but Severus was desperate and desperate men are not known for being careful.  
"Do you really think James would want you to act like this?"  
Oh, yes, he could see it rip through the thick fog on her mind, he could see the lines of anger appearing on her face.  
"Don't you dare talk about him," she whispered or rather croaked, her voice rough with tears and disuse.  
"Don't I? Then stop me, Lily. Oh, wait, you can't because you're too weak from lack of food and I bet you wouldn't even cast a simple Lumos because your mind won't focus. So sorry but I will keep talking about him. Are you trying to starve yourself to join him? You, his heroic witch of a wife, picking a coward's way out? Not to mention that I won't allow you, sorry, the Dark Lord ordered me to keep you alive so even if I wanted to, I can't."  
She was furious, her hands balled so tightly into fists that Severus was convinced that she would just attack him like some Muggle. But anger made her mind work again and that's what mattered.  
"I hate you, Snivellus Snape. I really, really wish I didn't meet you as a kid."  
"I know, Lily." He handed her the mug filled with broth and, grudgingly, her hands trembling from the lack of food, she finally took it and started to eat carefully. "I'm a bastard but it saved your life so I'm not going to apologize."  
When she didn't reply, Severus slipped out of the room without another word.

  
*

Minerva took a sip of her morning tea and reached for the newest issue of the Daily Prophet - a ritual that these days filled her with unease and slowly creeping dread. Every day the paper could bring a notice of death of dear friends, or a political disaster, or some nonsensical law in the making. For a second Minerva just stayed frozen with one hand on the folded paper, listening to Alastor's soft snores coming from her couch temporarily transfigured into a comfortable bed.  
She took a deep, fortifying breath and opened the Prophet. "ALDRIC LESTRANGE ANNOUNCES BID FOR MINISTER FOR MAGIC!" screamed the headline.  
'Minister Bagnold's death was a savage act that needs to be punished as soon as possible' said the head of the Lestrange family on a press conference organized in the atrium of the Ministry and well attended by the members of the press, as well as mister Lestrange's immediate family: wife, two sons, Rodolphus and Rabastan, and daughter in law, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black. 'As you know, I am not a politician. I cannot, however, stand idly by when good wizards and witches of Britain are living in poverty, terrorized by the senseless brutality that has been ruling the streets of our cities and settlements for too long.'  
Sources close to mister Lestrange's campaign say his platform will be based on the immediate economic relief for the families most affected by the latest crisis, long-term solutions to the unemployment problem, and bringing end to the unrest and brutal assaults on wizarding population.  
Interview with Gondolas de Medici, our political expert SEE PAGE THREE  
Aldric Lestrange - prodigy or charlatan? A profile SEE PAGE FIVE  
Minerva cursed softly under her breath and startled herself in the sudden silence. She looked up and met Alastor's gaze.  
"Who is it this time?" he asked, helping himself to the fresh scones the house elves delivered along with morning tea for two. Minerva shook her head, smiling slightly.  
"No deaths this time, thank Merlin."  
"Then what got your tail in a twist, Minnie?"  
Wordlessly the witch slid the paper across the small table and looked towards the window as he scanned the article.  
"Can't stand idly by, my arse. His bloody sons and that crazy Black girl are among the hordes that terrorize the innocents, I'm willing to bet."  
"He's going to win," she muttered, playing absentmindedly with the cup of tea. "There's not much time for a fully fledged campaign and not many wizards or witches have enough political capital to beat him."  
"He's a smooth-talker, too."  
She shrugged.  
"He spent a lifetime building business alliances, of course he knows how to talk for the people to listen. And he probably has a whole team of people with more political prowess teaching him what to say."  
"So he's a puppet, you think?"  
Minerva rubbed her forehead, thinking intently.  
"Lestranges are one of the most faithful, and Aldric was a fellow Slytherin when Tom Riddle went to school. It makes sense that he would be trusted with spear-heading his Lord's little venture into politics."  
Moody nodded, his stocky fingers digging deeply into the flesh just above his knees. It's hurting again, she thought to herself. It's going to snow soon, then.  
"We're absolutely buggered, aren't we."  
"Unless…"  
"He'll never do that."  
"I don't know, Alastor," she returned his gaze, eyebrows drawn together. "He must have realized already that it's possibly the last chance we'll ever get. Dumbledore's name still means a lot to many of our wizarding brethren."  
"So… Which one of us gets to break the news to him?"  
Minerva McGonagall only sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not done with edits but I wanted to get this out there to motivate myself a little bit. Chapter count will probably change as I go (I have the weirdest tendency to write overly long chapters and end up chopping them up...)


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